We would see the hot towns paddling in the surf of Spanish waters,
And prowl beneath dim balconies and twang discreet guitars,
And sigh our adoration to Don Juan's lovely daughters
Till they lifted their mantillas and their dark eyes shone like stars.
We would cruise by fairy islands where the gaudy parrot screeches
And the turtle in his soup-tureen floats basking in the calms;
We would see the fire-flies winking in the bush above the beaches
And a moon of honey yellow drifting up behind the palms.
We would crown ourselves with garlands and tread a frolic measure
With the nut-brown island beauties in the firelight by the huts;
We would give them rum and kisses; we would hunt for pirate treasure,
And bombard the apes with pebbles in exchange for coco-nuts.
When we wearied of our wand'rings 'neath the blazing Southern heaven
And dreamed of Kentish orchards fragrant-scented after rain,
Of the cream there is in Cornwall and the cider brewed in Devon,
We would crowd our yards with canvas and sweep foaming home again,
_Singing_--
Cheerily, O lady mine,
Cheerily, my sweetheart true,
For the blest Blue Peter's flying and I'm rolling home to you;
For I'm tired of Spanish ladies and of tropic afterglows,
Heart-sick for an English Spring-time, all afire for an English ring-time,
In love with an English rose.
Rolling home!
* * * * *
MISGIVINGS.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45